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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657632">A hundred days of Wood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minnie0503/pseuds/Minnie0503'>Minnie0503</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anger, Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Multi, Relationship(s), Romance, Shorts, Smut, Wordcount: 100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:33:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657632</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minnie0503/pseuds/Minnie0503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of a hundred 100-word stories about Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood. </p><p>(The titles do not belong to me, they are shamelessly stolen from songs and used as inspiration. Unfortunately, Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood do not belong to me either.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>114</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Still into you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wood.” </p><p>“Flint.”</p><p>The two young wizards shook hands. Nothing much had changed. Wood still flinched when Flint squeezed his hand far too tightly. Flint still swallowed deeply when Wood’s eyes met his. The audience was new. No longer the students of Hogwarts but wizards and witches who wanted to see the Quidditch premier league final. </p><p>“Ready to lose?” Flint said with a smirk on his face. </p><p>Wood huffed. “Dream on.” </p><p>They were still shaking hands. No, not shaking. They were still holding hands, almost clinging on to each other. </p><p>“Everything alright, captains?” The referee asked. </p><p>They nodded and let go.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Memory lane</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marcus slowly traced a finger down Oliver’s marbled chest. </p><p>“How do you still know?” Oliver asked, his breath only slowly returning to its normal speed.</p><p>Marcus chuckled softly. “How do I still know what?”</p><p>Oliver blushed. “Know where to touch me…Know what I like.” He looked up at the older wizard. “After all these years.”</p><p>The finger reached Oliver’s stomach, stopping just at the top of his groin.</p><p>“I will never forget.” Marcuse leaned over, his lips now following the path his finger had paved. Oliver shuddered with pleasure. “How can I forget when I’ve never stopped thinking about it?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. If I could be anywhere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Still Scotland.” </p><p>“Why? It’s freezing.” </p><p>“Not all the time.”</p><p>“Most of the time. And when it’s not freezing, it rains.”</p><p>“It’s home.”</p><p>“For you.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Why not somewhere more exciting?”</p><p>“Plenty exciting here.”</p><p>“What’s exciting about Scotland?”</p><p>“The scenery. The people. The weather.”</p><p>“Boring. Boring. Boring.”</p><p>“You think I’m boring?”</p><p>“I think Scotland is boring.”</p><p>“Where would you go then?”</p><p>“Somewhere else.”</p><p>“That’s not very specific.”</p><p>“Mexico.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“How can you ask me where I’d want to be if you don’t even know the answer yourself?”</p><p>“I do. If I could be anywhere I’d be with you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Tongue tied</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What?” Marcus dropped his shirt to the floor. </p><p>Oliver blushed furiously. “Nothing.” He mumbled, peeling his eyes away from Marcus’ ripped upper body. </p><p>Marcus shook his head and continued undressing. Slowly. His grin broadening with every sneaky glance from the other wizard. </p><p>Oliver fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. A keeper should not have jittery hands like these. </p><p>“Let me.” Marcus, now only in his briefs, stepped closer and unbuttoned Oliver’s shirt. Oliver thought his heart would stop. “There.” Marcus stepped away again, chuckling. “Don’t get used to it. You’ll have to do it yourself before the next game.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’s not much.” Oliver said quietly and opened the door to the small flat. “They’ve stopped all the games with the war going on.” He looked at the tall wizard in front of him. “You know that, of course. I’m waffling.”</p><p>Marcus forced a smile. “It’s okay.” </p><p>It wasn’t much. It was basically just one room. Marcus thought he could make out the shape of Oliver’s body imprinted on the duvet atop the pullout sofa. </p><p>“Sorry for the mess.” Oliver said nervously. </p><p>“It’s okay. Thank you for letting me stay.”</p><p>“Of course.” Oliver smiled. “It can be your home too.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. She makes me hard but you make me weak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sorry!” Oliver more or less squealed and shut the door to the Quidditch changing rooms. Red-faced he ran off towards the pitch, the image of Marcus thrusting into the petite girl under him burning itself into his brain.</p><p>“Wood!” Marcus called, pulling up his trousers as he was rushing after the Scot. “Wait.”</p><p>Oliver took a deep breath and stopped. </p><p>“You know that she is nothing to me, right?” Marcus said, the softness of his voice not matching his brutish looks.</p><p>“Whatever.” Oliver managed to blurt out. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. Oliver brushed it off.</p><p>“Oliver…”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Me and my husband</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oliver, you have someone to bring, don’t you?” Angelina paused her writing and looked at her former Quidditch captain. </p><p>“Like a date?” Oliver said and played with one of the bridal magazines. </p><p>Angelina poignantly looked at the ring on Oliver’s finger. “Yes. Like a date.”</p><p>Oliver cleared his throat. “I suppose.”</p><p>“Right. So I can put you down with a plus one?” Angelina continued writing names on the guest list. “I assume you will want to come to my wedding?”</p><p>“Of course.” </p><p>“And your wife will want to come too?” </p><p>Oliver sighed. “Me and my husband would love to come.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Nothing to regret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oliver groaned, Marcus’ breathing hot against his neck. He could feel the older wizard’s erection poking at the small of his back. </p><p>“It doesn’t even count that way.” Marcus whispered hoarsely. “You’re basically just doing it yourself.” </p><p>Oliver nodded, not sure whether he’d be capable of forming words. Marcus’ hand was around his own. His own hand that was furiously moving up and down his cock. He pressed himself even closer to Marcus, eliciting a small moan from the Slytherin captain. Then he felt the hot wetness of Marcus’ mouth on his shoulder.</p><p>“It doesn’t count. There’s nothing to regret.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Hot shower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the hell are you doing here?” Marcus snarled at the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.</p><p>“There’s no hot water in the Gryffindor changing rooms.” Oliver grumbled, his eyes glued to the tall Slytherin.</p><p>“And why are you here?” Marcus huffed. “You could have gone to one of the other changing rooms.”</p><p>“I didn’t know you were here.” Oliver got undressed.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Marcus now sounded panicky.</p><p>“I’m getting a shower.” Oliver stepped into the shower stall. </p><p>Marcus moved away from him until his back was against the wall.</p><p>“I need a hot shower.” Oliver grinned and grabbed the soap.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Only child</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You can’t do that.” Oliver looked at the Slytherin captain. “You cannot book the pitch for the whole week. It’s not fair.”</p><p>Marcus smirked, his team laughing behind him. “I’ve got special permission.” He stepped to the side. “We need to train with our new seeker.” </p><p>Oliver frowned. “A word.” The two captains walked a few steps away. “Marcus, come on. It’s really not fair.”</p><p>“Malfoy’s shit, we’ve got to whip him into shape.” Marcus sighed. “I’ll make it up to you.”</p><p>“Somebody really needs to teach you how to share.” Oliver shook his head. “You’re such an only child.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marcus took a sip of his beer. “So, are you down?” </p><p>“Am I down for what?” Oliver nervously played with a coaster. It was crowded in the pub. Marcus’ knee kept touching Oliver’s. Oliver sighed. It wasn’t that crowded.</p><p>“Don’t make me spell it out, Wood.” Marcus put his drink down. “You know what I mean.”</p><p>“I’m not down.” Oliver kept his eyes on the TV screen. Marcus’ knee disappeared. </p><p>“Fair enough.” Marcus stood up. His gaze wandered around the room. </p><p>“Alright.” Oliver cleared his throat. “I’m down.”</p><p>Marcus grinned. “Down for what?”</p><p>“Don’t make me spell it out, Flint.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. You broke me first</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oliver screamed when the curse hit him. He buckled over, his face hit the ground. Nobody stopped for him, nobody noticed his fall in the chaos that was the battle of Hogwarts.</p><p>“Crucio!” A deep voice bellowed. Oliver did not know what hurt more. The curse or the recognition of whose voice it was. </p><p>When the pain finally stopped, Oliver just kept his face against the ground. He did not want to look up. He did not want to see his face.</p><p>“You just left.” The voice said. “I loved you and you just left.” </p><p>The pain hit him again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. This side of paradise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So who is she dating now? Diggory? Jordan?” Marcus grumbled and sat down next to Oliver.</p><p>“Finnigan.” Oliver said. “He’s a year below.”</p><p>“I know who he is.” Marcus huffed. “That’s why I don’t bother with girls. They’re too fickle.”</p><p>Oliver turned to Marcus, his eyes wide open. “You’re into guys?”</p><p>Marcus laughed softly. “You really are oblivious to anything that’s not Quidditch related.”</p><p>Oliver blushed. “You just don’t seem it.”</p><p>Marcus raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware there was a certain way you are supposed to be.” He stood up. “You should join us. It’s better on this side.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. In this shirt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you sure?” Oliver asked, his feet nervously tapping the floor. </p><p>“Never been more sure.” Marcus slipped on his other shoe and tied up the laces. </p><p>“They’ll talk.” Oliver bit his lip. “We might get into trouble with the teachers.”</p><p>“It’s Saturday. We can wear what we want.” Marcus smiled at him encouragingly. “There’s two weeks of school left. When not now, when?”</p><p>“Maybe let’s tell our friends first?” </p><p>“Mine already know. It’ll be like ripping off a plaster.” Marcus looked at himself in the mirror. Wearing Oliver’s Quidditch shirt. “I will walk into the great hall in this shirt.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Bitter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He’s not as good as I am.” Marcus growled, his eyes firmly planted on the Gryffindor keeper.</p><p>“Flint, we are in the middle of a freaking game!” Oliver shouted back. “Can we talk later?”</p><p>“You always say that.” Marcus flew closer, ignoring the bludger whooshing past him. “But later never comes.”</p><p>“I promise.” Oliver looked over to Madam Hooch who already had her whistle between her lips. </p><p>“Just tell me one thing.” Marcus was now right in front of him. “Do you love him?”</p><p>Oliver sighed. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“He’s pathetic.” Marcus tried to keep his voice level. “You both are.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Let it happen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you scared of?” Oliver whispered against his ear. </p><p>Marcus tried to get some distance between him and the Gryffindor captain but he was already with his back against the wall. “I’m not scared.”</p><p>Oliver smiled. “I thought you were a better liar than that.” He let his mouth wander down Marcus’ neck. “What’s the worst that could happen?”</p><p>Marcus swallowed. He could lose his reputation. He could unearth feelings he’d buried deep down inside of him. He could let it happen. </p><p>“Piss off, Wood!” He barked and shoved the other wizard away. He could not let it happen.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Not how it's supposed to go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Where’s your second, Wood?” Marcus bellowed when Oliver arrived at the astronomy tower by himself. </p><p>Oliver rolled his eyes. “Percy refused to come. Said he couldn’t risk his prefect badge already.” He let his eyes wander. “Where’s yours?”</p><p>Marcus wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I never had one.” He grabbed his wand. “We can duel without seconds.” </p><p>Oliver raised his hands. “Hold on. Why don’t you have a second?”</p><p>“Slytherins don’t need anybody.” Marcus said defensively. </p><p>“Everyone needs somebody.” Oliver stepped closer, his eyes carefully watching Marcus’ wand. “Do you just want to hang out? We don’t have to duel.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Happy for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marcus nervously watched the row of people in front of him diminish. Ten people left. He’ll have thought of something to say by the time it’d be his turn. He should have never come. Everyone looked at him as if he were an intruder. Which he probably was. But he received an invitation. And when you get invited you show up. Basic manners. Six people. Marcus looked at his empty glass. Rookie mistake. Never get into a queue without a drink. Two people. He sighed. One person left. Oliver Wood and his bride beaming. His turn. </p><p>“I’m happy for you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. My strange addiction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“But that’s not strange at all!” George Weasley exclaimed. “Everyone loves Bertie Bott’s every flavour beans.” He laughed. “What’s not to like? Tangy, sweet and sour. You’ve literally got it all.”</p><p>“Well, yes. But I only like earwax.” Angelina said quietly. Fred snickered and Harry pulled a face. </p><p>George raised an eyebrow. “Okay, that is strange.” He looked at his twin. “Better sleep with a headband.” They all laughed.</p><p>“Right, my go.” Angelina turned to Oliver. “What’s your strange addiction?”</p><p>Oliver swallowed. Dark eyes. Rough hands. Green Quidditch robes. “I don’t have one.” Stolen kisses in the changing rooms. “Sorry.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. The less I know the better</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Where have you been?” Oliver asked and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. </p><p>Marcus quietly closed the bedroom door behind him. “Out.” </p><p>Oliver sat up. “Well, obviously.” He looked at the clock. It was three in the morning. “Don’t you have a game tomorrow morning?”</p><p>“I won’t be able to make it.” Marcus would not meet his eyes.</p><p>“Why not? You never miss a game.”</p><p>“Can’t use my arm.” </p><p>Only now did Oliver notice how awkwardly Marcus held his left arm. “They’ve got you.”</p><p>Marcus’ eyes briefly met his. </p><p>Oliver sighed sadly. “The less I know the better.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. One time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you doing?” Marcus asked him with slight panic in his voice. </p><p>Oliver fluffed up the pillow. “Getting comfortable?”</p><p>“Why?” Definite panic in his voice now. </p><p>“Because I want to sleep?” Oliver put his head down.</p><p>“What? Here?” Marcus, now in full panic mode, stood up. </p><p>“I am tired. I want to sleep.” He pulled the duvet over himself. “It’s no big deal.”</p><p>Marcus paced the room. “You can’t stay over. You never stay over.”</p><p>“Why can’t I stay over?” Oliver mumbled, half-asleep already.</p><p>“Because then this becomes…” Marcus groaned frustratedly. </p><p>“Becomes what? Relax, Marcus. It’s just one time.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. I'm losing my mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They were snickering again. Oliver’s gaze wandered over to where Flint and Pucey were sitting. It was distracting.</p><p>“Oliver, you need to stir counter-clockwise.” Percy scolded. </p><p>“I know.” He shook his head, irritated with himself. “I know that.”</p><p>Percy scoffed. “They are so obnoxious.” </p><p>Oliver nodded. Flint and Pucey truly were obnoxious. Especially Flint. Trying to aggravate him by giving him those looks. Grinning at him whenever Snape wasn’t looking. Oliver looked over to the two Slytherins again. And winking at him. Oliver shook his head. What? Had Flint just winked at him?</p><p>“I am losing my mind.” He mumbled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. He don't love me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marcus stared at the Gryffindor keeper. “So nothing?” </p><p>Oliver nervously looked at his friends. They were all sitting at breakfast when Flint had walked over to him. “I don’t know what you are on about, Flint.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. </p><p>“Wow.” Marcus crossed his arms. “So you are sure you have nothing to tell me?”</p><p>Oliver turned to face Marcus, a pleading look on his face. “Not right now.”</p><p>“You promised.” Marcus sounded disappointed. No. He sounded hurt. </p><p>“I can’t. Not now.” Oliver hissed, well aware of the looks they were getting.</p><p>“Well, I guess you don’t then.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Fly me to the moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I don’t know what you want from me, Wood!” Marcus pretty much growled at him. </p><p>Oliver threw the quaffle back at him. “You bloody well know what I want from you!”</p><p>Marcus didn’t manage to catch it, it slipped through his fingers. They both watched the quaffle hit the ground. “I can’t give you that.”</p><p>“Why not?” There was no emotion in his voice. </p><p>“Because I can’t.” Marcus looked at his hands that were gripping the broomstick way too tightly. “We’re just fucking. That’s it.”</p><p>“No. You can’t fly me to the moon and not expect me to see stars.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. As the world caves in</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You cannot go!” Marcus shouted and blocked the door. </p><p>Oliver groaned. “I’ve got to. This is it. We either win the war or don’t. But I can’t just sit on my arse while my friends are out there fighting.” He put his hands on Marcus’ shoulders. “While they are out there dying.”</p><p>“So you want to join this suicide mission?” There was a tear slowly making its way down Marcus’ cheek.</p><p>“It’s not a suicide mission. There’s hope.” Oliver gently wiped the tear away.</p><p>Marcus looked at him for a long time. “Not for me.” He stepped to the side.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Cologne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s smelled it before. It was an earthy smell. Musky. Pleasant. Too pleasant. </p><p>“Why does he keep pairing us up?” Flint grumbled next to him. </p><p>“Because you and Pucey don’t do any work.” Oliver said quietly. He put his nose against the potion again. He could get lost in that smell.</p><p>“Utterly ridiculous. Like I can focus any better with you.” Flint mumbled. </p><p>Oliver looked up at him. “What?”</p><p>Flint blushed. “I didn’t say anything.”</p><p>Oliver grinned. “Have you smelled it yet?” He held the vial up for Flint.</p><p>“Don’t need to.” Flint turned his nose away. “I already know.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Power & Control</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His teeth teared his lips, Oliver winced. Marcus groaned. He unbuckled his belt. Oliver copied him. They parted for a moment to take their shirts off. Their trousers hit the floor just a moment later. Marcus’ mouth crushed against his again. Rough hands wandered down his chest, stopping at his waist. Oliver moaned at his touch. Urgent fingers running up his body. Pressing his shoulders. Pressing him down. Oliver grinned. His own hands finding Marcus’ shoulders. Pressing down. Marcus stopped the kiss and groaned. They looked at each other for a moment, for an eternity. He sank to his knees.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. I just wanna shine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oliver?” Marcus called quietly. The thunderstorm was still raging outside. Lightning struck and Marcus flinched. He shut the door of the changing rooms. Darkness engulfed him. “Oliver?” He called again. No answer. Just the rain outside. Marcus walked towards the shower stalls. And there he was. His eyes were closed, steaming hot water running down his face. Marcus sighed. </p><p>“Oliver.” He  said. </p><p>The Gryffindor captain slowly opened his eyes. “We were so close.”</p><p>“They had to stop it. The dementors…” Marcus stepped into the shower, fully clothed. He wrapped Oliver up in his arms. </p><p>“I just wanna shine.” Oliver mumbled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Somebody loves you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Somebody misses you when you’re away.” Angelina sang and sat down next to Oliver. “They wanna wake up with you everyday.” She grinned at the Gryffindor captain. “Somebody wants to hear you say.”</p><p>Oliver scrunched up his face. “Muggle song?”</p><p>“Ooh somebody loves you.” She erupted into laughter. </p><p>Oliver shook his head. Had she been drinking? It was only noon. “What is wrong with you, Johnson?” He asked, confounded. </p><p>“Nothing. Just thought you should know.” </p><p>“Know what?”</p><p>“That somebody loves you.” </p><p>“Who?” </p><p>Angelina nodded over to the Slytherin table. “Somebody loves you.”</p><p>Oliver frowned. “Nonsense.” Flint smiled at him. “Nonsense.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. I wish you were gay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I wish you would get your team under control!” Oliver shouted. He was livid. Katie was in the hospital wing with yet another broken nose. </p><p>“I wish you would make your players tougher!” Marcus snarled. </p><p>“I wish you would just play fair for once!” Oliver shoved Marcus. </p><p>Marcus raised his eyebrows, surprised. “I wish you wouldn’t touch me.”</p><p>“I wish you would care!” Oliver shoved him again. </p><p>Marcus grabbed the younger wizard’s hands. “I wish you would admit it.”</p><p>“I wish you would shut up.” Oliver ripped his hands away and walked off.</p><p>Marcus sighed. “I wish you were mine.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. So what</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wood made captain.” Adrian helped himself to some toast. “I just heard McGonagall tell him.”</p><p>“So what?” Marcus grumbled, his eyes darting to the Gryffindor table. </p><p>“Nothing. Just thought you’d want to know.” Adrian held his hands up defensively. “He’s dedicated.”</p><p>“McGonagall wouldn’t have chosen him if he weren’t.” His eyes finally found the tall keeper. His little Gryffindor friends were congratulating him. </p><p>“He’ll whip the team back into shape after the disaster that was Finnegan.” Adrian glanced at him. “You’ll be okay with competing against your crush?”</p><p>“Makes no difference.” Marcus’ head whipped around. “What did you just say?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Coffee breath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the smell of bacon that woke him up. Marcus opened his eyes, instantly raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. Now he could hear the whistling too. He smiled against his will. This was just too cringey. Too picture-book perfect. The tall chaser sat up, taking in his surroundings. He hadn’t had the chance last night. The room was messy. Puddlemere United posters on the walls. Keeper’s gloves on the floor. A Gryffindor scarf carelessly flung over a chair. Everything in the room just screamed his name. The bedroom door opened.</p><p>“Good morning.” </p><p>Marcus smiled.</p>
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<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Crush Culture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What about her?” Miles nodded towards a blonde Hufflepuff girl. “Do you fancy her?”</p><p>Marcus shook his head.</p><p>“Her then?” Adrian was looking at a tall Ravenclaw student. “She’s pretty.”</p><p>Again, Marcus shook his head. </p><p>Miles and Adrian looked at each other. “You must fancy someone. We all do.”</p><p>“I don’t fancy anyone. And I don’t have to.” Marcus huffed. “All that matters is Quidditch.”</p><p>His two best friends shook their heads. </p><p>“We should be talking about our strategy for the next game.” Marcus unfolded a piece of parchment.</p><p>“How to get Wood.” Adrian read out. </p><p>Marcus blushed. “To lose."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Sometimes things just fall apart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Isn’t that the guy you used to date at Hogwarts?” He asked.</p><p>Oliver looked up from his lunch. “What?”</p><p>“That tall guy over there. That’s who you were going out with, no?”</p><p>Oliver looked to where his boyfriend was pointing. Marcus Flint was outside Zonko’s. He was looking straight at Oliver. There was a little boy holding Marcus’ hand.</p><p>“We didn’t really go out.” Oliver said, not taking his eyes off Marcus. </p><p>“Right. I just assumed. Because you said…” His boyfriend cleared his throat.</p><p>“That I was in love with him?” Oliver watched Marcus go into the shop. “I was.”</p>
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<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Paris</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She should have known. She eased herself off the bed. They didn’t even notice. She wondered when they would. Or rather, if ever. Her skirt was on the floor, a Quidditch shirt carelessly dropped on top of it. She started to retrieve her clothes. She quickly got dressed against the background noise of moaning and groaning. For a moment she paused. Should she say something? She looked at them. Their bodies entwined. A layer of sweat making them shine in the late afternoon sun. Like two young gods. No. She wouldn’t interrupt them. They'd clearly only ever wanted each other.</p>
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<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Golden Hour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“That wasn’t fair!” Oliver shouted and flew downward to retrieve the quaffle.</p><p>“What do you mean? It was a straight shot.” Marcus joined him on the ground. “An easy shot. Why didn’t you block it?” </p><p>Oliver played with the quaffle. “I couldn’t see.”</p><p>Marcus scrunched up his face. “What?”</p><p>“Because of the sun.” Oliver threw the quaffle at Marcus, who deftly caught it. The two boys took flight again. </p><p>“The sun was in my face, not yours. And I still made the shot.” Marcus said, his eyes, in fact, squinting from the bright light. </p><p>“Exactly. The sun was on you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Priority</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Shouldn’t you be with them?” Oliver shouted at the wizard who was dragging him away from the terrified screams. He didn’t receive a reply. They went deeper and deeper into the forest just off the camping ground. The screams were fainter here. Only when they got to a small clearing did the wizard stop. But he didn’t let go of Oliver’s hand. </p><p>“Why?” Oliver asked and lifted Marcus’ hood. “Pretty sure you should be with them.”</p><p>“Yes.” Marcus sighed. </p><p>“So why aren’t you?” Oliver cocked his head.</p><p>“Because you were there.” Marcus stepped closer. “And you’ll always be my priority.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Play date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They thought it would be a good idea. Their boys were both obsessed with Quidditch. Almost the same age. They ought to get along. </p><p>“I bet I can throw this stone further than you.” The slightly older boy said, a large piece of rock in his hand. </p><p>“Bet you can’t.” The slightly smaller boy said feistily. </p><p>“I bet I can jump higher than you can.”</p><p>“Bet you can’t.” </p><p>“I bet I can run faster than you can.”</p><p>“Bet you can’t.”</p><p>A bloody nose and a missing tooth later, the two mothers smiled at each other apologetically. </p><p>“Maybe when they’re older.”</p>
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<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Call out my name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Why do you talk like that?” Marcus eyed the small Gryffindor boy next to him suspiciously. </p><p>Oliver scrunched up his face. “Talk like what?”</p><p>“Like… I don’t know. Weirdly.” Marcus had never heard anyone speak the way this boy did. “You say the words weirdly.”</p><p>“Do you mean my accent?” Oliver raised his eyebrows. “That’s just how we talk where I’m from. You talk weirdly too.”</p><p>“I do not!” Marcus crossed his arms. How dare he! “Say my name again.”</p><p>“Marcus.” It kind of sounded nice, Marcus thought.“You say mine then.”</p><p>“Oliver.” </p><p>The two boys smiled at each other sheepishly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Magnets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was just adding sugar to her tea when the door to the dining room opened. She didn’t even bother to look up. “Have you been with him again?” She asked, even though she didn’t want to hear the answer.</p><p>“For the last time.” Marcus sat down at the table. “I promise.”</p><p>She put her spoon down. “You say that every time.” </p><p>“But I mean it this time.” He helped himself to some toast.</p><p>“Like you meant it when you promised you’d never stay over?” She tried to ignore the bite marks on his neck.</p><p>“I’ll try harder, I promise.”</p>
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<a name="section0041"><h2>41. In case you don't live forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oliver had never been in such pain. It started in his head, branched out into his shoulders, found its aching centre in his stomach, ran down his legs and even made his toes cry out in fury.</p><p>“Don’t move.” A deep voice growled next to him. “Bloody bludger hit your spine.”</p><p>Oliver tried to sit up, a strong hand pushing him down.</p><p>“What did I say.” Now he recognised it to be Flint’s. “You fell.” A sigh. “Mother always said young men are too daring.” Another sigh. “Anyway. I wanted to say that you’re not that bad. Just in case.”</p>
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<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Bad blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The doors of the carriage opened with a creak. “Can I sit here?” A small Gryffindor boy asked.</p><p>“Why?” Marcus crossed his arms. </p><p>“It’s full everywhere else.” The boy’s eyes darted to Marcus’ Slytherin robes.</p><p>“And that is my problem because?” The older boy snarled. </p><p>The Gryffindor sighed. “Please? I don’t want to stand all the way to London.” He smiled. “It’s Christmas?”</p><p>“So?” Marcus huffed. “Our houses don’t mix. We can’t sit together.”</p><p>“Come on. Nobody has to know. Let’s just put our muggle clothes on.” </p><p>“Our what?” Marcus shook his head resolutely. “No. We can’t sit together. Sorry.”</p>
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<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Bad friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You might not want to sit close to the pumpkins tonight.” Oliver mumbled.</p><p>“Why not?” Marcus scratched the back of his head, the movement exposing a sliver of his stomach. He ignored Oliver’s eyes pausing there for just a moment too long.</p><p>“They might blow up at some point during the feast.” Oliver’s eyes back on his now.</p><p>“Right.” Marcus crossed his arms. “The Weasley twins won’t appreciate you telling me. I’m clearly a target.”</p><p>“They’ll live.”</p><p>“So would I. Don’t think pumpkins are deadly.”</p><p>“Well, I’m a bad friend then.”</p><p>“Not to me.”</p><p>“No.” Oliver sighed. “Not to you.”</p>
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<a name="section0044"><h2>44. Like real people do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The light was really bright. There was music coming from somewhere. He could smell fresh bread. </p><p>“Did you bring the list?” Oliver asked him, pushing the trolley.</p><p>“What list?” Marcus regarded the assortment of fruit. A lot of it he’d never seen before. </p><p>Oliver sighed. “Nevermind.”</p><p>Marcus put down a mango. He felt very uncomfortable. “And you do that every time you want food?”</p><p>Oliver chuckled. “Well, I buy enough to last for a while. I’ll have to buy more now.”</p><p>“Can we get this?” Marcus held up a pomegranate. “It looks weird.”</p><p>“Sure.” Oliver grinned. “Anything you want, love.”</p>
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<a name="section0045"><h2>45. Young god</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunlight was flooding the room. Marcus shut the door behind him quietly. Oliver was at the centre of the room, on all fours with his back arching up. It reminded Marcus of a cat. Then, with an audible release of breath, he let his back collapse. With a slow intake of breath, Oliver pushed his hands forward and then pulled himself up so his legs were upright, his butt in the air.</p><p>“What on earth are you doing?” Marcus asked, completely flabbergasted.</p><p>“Yoga. It’s good for your balance.” Oliver replied calmly.</p><p>“Right.” Marcus sighed deeply. “But why are you naked?”</p>
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<a name="section0046"><h2>46. Glory and gore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What about this one?” His fingers lightly brushed a pale scar on Marcus’ left shoulder.</p><p>“Teakettle.” Marcus replied, his voice still sleepy.</p><p>Oliver bit his lip. He knew Marcus’ father was hot-headed. “This one?” A circle on his thigh.</p><p>“Cigarette.” Marcus’ mother was a heavy smoker.</p><p>“And this one?” A faint bruise just above Marcus’ groin.</p><p>The former Slytherin captain grinned. “You. Last night.”</p><p>Oliver kissed it gently. “I'm sorry.”</p><p>“’s okay.” Marcus’ fingers ran through Oliver’s hair.</p><p>“And this one?” A large scarred burn on his left arm. </p><p>Marcus didn’t say anything for a while. “The ignorance of youth.”</p>
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<a name="section0047"><h2>47. Are you with me?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was sitting way too close to him. Oliver crossed his arms angrily. Now her hand was on his thigh. Oliver huffed. Why did he not stop her? Oliver could not peel his eyes away from Flint and the girl hitting on the tall Slytherin captain. She whispered something in his ear and he grinned. Oliver got up and helped himself to yet another drink from the makeshift bar.</p><p>“Why so pissed off, Wood?” A deep voice said behind him.</p><p>“I’m not pissed off.” </p><p>Flint chuckled softly. “Sure.” Oliver felt a tender hand at his hip. “Relax. I’m with you.”</p>
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<a name="section0048"><h2>48. Falling for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What is that?” Marcus asked incredulously, his eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. </p><p>“What is what?” Oliver put his shirt on quickly, blushing furiously. </p><p>“That.” The Slytherin captain poked the spot just above Oliver’s heart. “Take your shirt off again.”</p><p>“No.” Oliver shuffled away.</p><p>Marcus grabbed his hand. “It was a quaffle. You’ve got a quaffle tattoo.”</p><p>Oliver nodded shyly. </p><p>“There’s something written on it. Let me see.” </p><p>Oliver knew it had been a silly thing to do. Now he’d have to live with the consequences. He lifted his shirt, Marcus inched closer. Grinning when he read it.</p><p>“You softie.”</p>
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<a name="section0049"><h2>49. Blood in the cut</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Don’t make me hurt you.” Flint snarled, his wand trained on Oliver. </p><p>“Like you wouldn’t enjoy that!” Oliver hissed back, his voice surprisingly strong.</p><p>Flint lowered his wand. And punched him in the face. Hard. </p><p>“You can do better than that.” He could taste blood in his mouth.</p><p>Flint growled and kneed him in the stomach, Oliver toppled over, clutching his midsection. Before he could aggravate the older wizard further, Flint grabbed his hair and forced Oliver to look at him.</p><p>“That good enough?”</p><p>Oliver grinned, blood staining his teeth. “Harder.” </p><p>Flint pulled him close. “I think you’re hard enough.”</p>
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<a name="section0050"><h2>50. Somebody else</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Shake hands!” Hooch demanded. </p><p>The two Quidditch captains eyed each other warily. </p><p>Oliver did not like that he had to look up one bit. </p><p>Marcus did not like the flutter in his stomach one bit. </p><p>Oliver did not like how broad the other boy’s shoulders were one bit.</p><p>Marcus did not like how the other boy’s eyes reminded him of hot chocolate one bit.</p><p>“Go on then, lads.” She sounded nervous now.</p><p>They shook hands. </p><p>Dear Merlin, please not him, Oliver thought.</p><p>Oh bloody hell, why can’t it be somebody else, Marcus thought.</p><p>The whistle sounded and they were off.</p>
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<a name="section0051"><h2>51. If by chance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started with a random look at breakfast. Just two pairs of eyes meeting across the great hall. Then their shoulders brushed in the Transfiguration corridor. You could argue that it happened accidentally. Nothing occurred at lunch. But then they found themselves sitting next to each other in Charms. Their knees were touching. When they queued outside Herbology for their lesson he grabbed his hand for just one second, letting go before anyone would notice. At dinner their eyes didn’t meet just by chance. So, really, the kiss in the Astronomy tower was the only logical conclusion to their day.</p>
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<a name="section0052"><h2>52. Do you feel me?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marcus did not like Hogwarts. Yes, he liked Quidditch, loved it even, but Hogwarts was a disappointment. Moving staircases and talking portraits. So what? It didn’t feel like magic to him. Classes were even worse. There was too much writing, too many flowery words for things that could be explained much more succinct. And yeah, they did transform rats into glasses and made books fly but was that really what magic was all about? Marcus did not feel magic until his sixth year. Because there was magic in the way he looked at him. There was magic in his kiss.</p>
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<a name="section0053"><h2>53. Guys my age</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’s just utterly pathetic.” Flint growled and Oliver, probably for the first time ever, nodded in agreement. “They have nothing but girls on the brain.”</p><p>It was Valentine’s day and both their Quidditch teams had forgone their practise sessions to spend time with their dates. Except for him and Flint who were in their Quidditch robes and ready to train. And obviously did not have a date.</p><p>“Did you ask anyone?” Oliver asked sheepishly.</p><p>Flint glared at him. “No. Saturdays are for Quidditch. Bloody hormonal boys.”</p><p>“Yeah. So it’s just us.”</p><p>“Let’s go then.” </p><p>Oliver grinned. Best Valentine’s day ever.</p>
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<a name="section0054"><h2>54. Go fuck yourself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You moronic bastard.” Marcus growled and shoved Wood. </p><p>“You arrogant piece of shit.” Wood angrily shoved him back, but there was a grin forming on his lips.</p><p>Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You bloody erm dick.” </p><p>“Well, that’s an unpleasant image.” Wood laughed.</p><p>Marcus couldn’t help but grin back. “I’ve run out of insults.” He sighed. They’d been arguing for a while now. </p><p>“Did we use knobhead yet?” Wood furrowed his brows. </p><p>Marcus shrugged. “I think I said dickhead.” </p><p>Wood nodded. “You did say that.” They looked at each other for a moment.</p><p>“Go fuck yourself?”</p><p>“Alright.” Wood grinned. “Let’s go.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0055"><h2>55. Absolutely smitten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“My friend wants your friend.” Adrian Pucey said and sat down next to Angelina Johnson who was doing her homework in the library.</p><p>“Pardon?” Angelina furrowed her brows.</p><p>Adrian sighed. Gryffindors were so slow. “My friend. Wants. Your friend.” He repeated slowly.</p><p>“I got that part, Pukey.” Angelina crossed her arms. “Which one?”</p><p>“Marcus.” Adrian did not react to her calling him Pukey. This was more important than squabbles. </p><p>“Really? I thought Flint hates everyone.” </p><p>“He does. Generally.” He sighed because Marcus would hate him too when he found out.</p><p>“Right. I’ll help you.”</p><p>“Don’t you…”</p><p>“I’ll speak to Oliver.”</p>
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<a name="section0056"><h2>56. Alone with you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was it. That awkward time the morning after when you were both pretending to be still asleep just to get out of having to actually talk about what happened the night before. Marcus had been staring at the ceiling for the past hour and couldn’t take the silence anymore.</p><p>“Breakfast?” </p><p>Oliver moved with great carefulness next to him as if he didn’t dare touch him. Which was just silly all things considered. “Okay.” </p><p>Breakfast and then leave. Although Marcus didn’t really want him to leave. “We could play Quidditch after?”</p><p>“That’d be nice.” </p><p>And then Oliver’s hand found his.</p>
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<a name="section0057"><h2>57. Everybody knows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Right.” Oliver sat up. “I’d better be off.”</p><p>Marcus sighed. Always the same. “You can stay, you know. Have breakfast with us.”</p><p>“With us?” Oliver cleared his throat. “I can’t have breakfast with your parents.”</p><p>“Why not?” Marcus sat up too. He pulled Oliver towards him. “You don’t have to sneak out.”</p><p>“Do they know?” Marcus could hear the panic in Oliver’s voice. </p><p>“Of course they know. They’re not stupid.” Marcus placed a kiss on the other wizard’s forehead. “And I told them.”</p><p>Oliver’s eyes widened. “You did what?”</p><p>“I told them. Why wouldn’t I tell them about my boyfriend?”</p>
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<a name="section0058"><h2>58. Everything I wanted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Who’s that?” Oliver’s mouth fell open. </p><p>Alicia followed Oliver’s glance. “Marcus Flint. You know him.”</p><p>“Of course I do. I meant next to him.” He suddenly felt nauseous. </p><p>Alicia giggled. “Oh that. That’s his fiancé. Can you believe it? Marcus Flint is gay. Who’d have thought.”</p><p>Oliver froze. Every look, every touch, every insult now loaded with retrospective meaning. </p><p>Alicia, who was completely ignorant to his reaction, waffled on. “And the fiancé just got signed to Puddlemere United. You’ll be playing with him once you get off reserves.”</p><p>Brilliant, Oliver thought, so that guy really had everything he’d ever wanted.</p>
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<a name="section0059"><h2>59. I should've told you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I can’t believe I didn’t know that.” Oliver huffed and dipped his quill into an ink pot. He unrolled the first of the many parchment forms the healer at St Mungo’s had given him.</p><p>“Why would you.” Marcus said, his voice still sounding weird, even though the swelling in his face was almost gone now.</p><p>Oliver scribbled something on the form. “I feel like I should know these things.” He could feel Marcus staring at him so he looked up. “I should know a lot more.”</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>“Ironic, though.” Oliver grinned. “You having a nut allergy.” </p><p>Marcus punched his shoulder.</p>
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<a name="section0060"><h2>60. Summertime magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you going to be different again at school?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Different. Not how you are now.”</p><p>“How am I now?”</p><p>“Nice.”</p><p>“Am I not nice at school?”</p><p>“Not to me.”</p><p>“Suppose not.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“I can’t just suddenly be nice to you can I? What do you want me to do? Hold your hand in Potions?”</p><p>“It was just a question.”</p><p>“A stupid question.”</p><p>“You’re an arse.”</p><p>“You knew that. I’m an arse. Always will be. It’s not going to change now.”</p><p>“So you’re just going to pretend this has never happened?”</p><p>“Summer’s over, Wood.”</p><p>“Right. Summer’s over.”</p>
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<a name="section0061"><h2>61. Hard feelings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Something’s changed.” Marcus undoes his shoes. It’s just him and Adrian left in the changing rooms.</p><p>“Has it?” Adrian leans back, crossing his arms in front of him. This will be interesting. </p><p>“Yeah.” Marcus looks around, although he knows there’s no one here but them. “We’re just making out. That’s what we agreed. But he’s been weird lately.”</p><p>Adrian grins. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah. He’s just…looking at me strangely.” Marcus tells his shoes, Adrian can see the blush on his cheeks.</p><p>“Strangely?” Adrian now bites his cheeks. This is too good.</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“Oh, Marcus, you’re hopeless.” Adrian can’t help but laugh.</p>
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<a name="section0062"><h2>62. Desire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was groaning and growling, most of it in frustration. Oliver thought his lips were surely sore from Marcus’ aggressive kisses and his hips would be bruised again in the morning from how hard Marcus was holding on to him, willing him even closer. They both wanted to be closer but weren’t quite sure how to achieve that yet. Or, more likely, were sure but didn’t know how to put it into words. Every time Oliver thought about it he got very excited but also very scared. He often wondered whether Marcus felt the same.</p><p>“Same time tomorrow?”</p><p>Oliver nodded.</p>
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<a name="section0063"><h2>63. I feel like I'm drowning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Everything alright, Oliver?” Angelina asked and pretended not to notice him staring at the Slytherin table. Again.</p><p>“How do you know you’re in love?” Oliver asked and Angelina choked on her pumpkin juice. </p><p>“Erm. It’s different for different people.” Angelina replied as evenly as she could. </p><p>“Right.” Oliver was still looking straight ahead. </p><p>“Do you think you’re in love?” She asked tentatively. Oliver didn’t answer. Angelina felt a little guilty that she was relieved. She didn’t really want to know. Not when it was with him.</p><p>Finally Oliver turned towards her. “I don’t know, Angelina. I feel like I’m drowning.”</p>
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<a name="section0064"><h2>64. It's okay if you forget me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’s okay, you know.” Marcus said, his voice barely more than a whisper. </p><p>Oliver leaned a little closer to hear him better, but the guard behind him made a disapproving noise and he backed away again.</p><p>“What’s okay? This?” Oliver asked. He was trying to ignore the screams, the constant wailing. “It’s not.” Oliver really wanted to touch Marcus, nothing more than to hold his hand but it wasn’t allowed. “I will get you out. I promise.”</p><p>Marcus smiled at him, but there was no joy in it. He looked defeated. It broke Oliver’s heart. </p><p>“It’s okay if…”</p><p>“No. Never.”</p>
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<a name="section0065"><h2>65. Let's fall in love for tonight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Can’t wait to see you using a walking frame.” Oliver smiled and nodded towards an old couple walking past the park bench he and Marcus were sitting on. “Your legs are shoddy already, it won’t be long now.”</p><p>Marcus huffed. “I won’t need one of those until I’m at least 150.”</p><p>“If you say so.” Oliver laughed. “Can’t wait until you’re 150 then.”</p><p>“Are you hanging around then?” Marcus asked, his voice suddenly very small.</p><p>“That’s the plan.” Oliver gently placed his hand on Marcus’ knee. “Unless we kill each other first.”</p><p>“Now you’ve spoiled it.”</p><p>“Sorry.” He kissed him.</p>
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<a name="section0066"><h2>66. All too well</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you okay?” Adrian asked gingerly. They were sitting on the floor of their Hogwarts dorm room.</p><p>Marcus scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s been a month.” </p><p>“Okay. So maybe we can start getting rid of some things?” </p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>Adrian cleared his throat. His eyes darted to the keeper’s gloves on top of Marcus’ chest of drawers, the Gryffindor jumper hanging over the edge of his friend’s bed, the Puddlemere United jersey peaking out from underneath Marcus’ pillow. </p><p>“The gloves?” </p><p>“Might need them.”</p><p>“Sure. The jumper?”</p><p>“It gets cold in here.”</p><p>“The jersey?”</p><p>“I don’t think I’m okay yet.”</p>
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<a name="section0067"><h2>67. Drinks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Calm down. It’s just drinks.” Marcus grinned. </p><p>Oliver stopped his foot nervously tapping the floor. “Just drinks.” He took a sip from said drink. Or drinks. They must be on their third pint now. The conversation was yet to leave the safety of Quidditch. </p><p>“Do you think you’ll swap out your beater soon? He’s getting worse.” </p><p>“What?” Oliver furrowed his brows. </p><p>Marcus laughed. “Bloody hell, Wood. What’s the matter with you?”</p><p>“I think I’ve got to go.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Oliver stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry. Another time?”</p><p>“Sure.” Marcus smirked. </p><p>“No, really. I just need to get my head around this.”</p>
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<a name="section0068"><h2>68. If I'm being honest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I love you.” The words stumbled from his mouth, Marcus reached out after them, but it was too late. He’d heard. Oliver Wood had heard. His head shot up. He was in the middle of buttoning his shirt up, his hands now frozen on the last few buttons.</p><p>“What?” Oliver finally asked.</p><p>Marcus disappeared under the duvet. “I didn’t say anything.” He felt the weight of Oliver sitting down onto the bed. </p><p>“Would you rather I hadn’t heard?” Oliver asked tentatively.</p><p>Marcus peaked out from underneath the duvet. “If I’m being honest…” Oliver looked at him expectantly. “I love you.”</p>
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<a name="section0069"><h2>69. You said you'd grow old with me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marcus froze. He never knew that you could feel nothing and everything at the same time. Marcus felt like he’d stopped breathing and was simultaneously breathing too hard. There were people shouting and screaming, it felt far away and yet the noise shook him to the core.</p><p>“Oliver?” Marcus’ voice felt hoarse. Had he been screaming? </p><p>Strong hands gripped his shoulders. “We’ve got to get out of here!” </p><p>Marcus shook them off and walked towards the body on the floor. It was a body. It couldn’t be Oliver. Please don’t let it be him.</p><p>“Marcus!” Adrian shouted.</p><p>It was Oliver.</p>
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<a name="section0070"><h2>70. What a heavenly way to die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oliver thought that surely this must be it. Surely nobody could feel like this but still be alive. Surely Oliver must be in heaven. </p><p>“Everything alright?” Marcus asked, looking up from where he was kneeling in front of him.</p><p>Oliver nodded, there was no way he’d be able to speak. Marcus continued and Oliver felt the muscles in his stomach tighten. Oh Merlin, not already, Oliver thought. He tried to think of something off-putting. Dumbledore’s wobbly knees. McGonagall’s ankles. Marcus did something with his mouth and Oliver couldn’t hold back.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” He whispered, completely flustered.</p><p>Marcus just grinned.</p>
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<a name="section0071"><h2>71. Paper Rings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So if you add that then…” Oliver huffed. “Are you even listening?”</p><p>Marcus peeled his eyes away from Oliver’s mouth. “Mhm.”</p><p>“You’ve got to focus. Or do you want to fail Arithmancy again?” Oliver scolded and Marcus shook his head. “Right. Let me show you this way. That’s how mum taught me.” </p><p>Oliver rummaged through his bag and then he had a piece of string in his hand. He flicked his wand, turning a piece of parchment into small paper rings. He grabbed one, ready to add it to the string, to show Marcus. Oliver’s eyes found Marcus’. He swallowed.</p>
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<a name="section0072"><h2>72. I thought I died inside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you doing?” Wood muttered and Marcus backed away. </p><p>Shit, he thought. They’d been arguing, again, over something Marcus couldn’t even remember now. They’d started to grapple, which they hadn’t done since fifth year, Marcus shoving Wood, always Marcus the first one to make their arguments physical. He’d been holding Wood’s wrists to stop him from punching Marcus in the face. Their faces had been way too close together. Marcus thought something inside him died when he’d pressed his lips against Wood’s. He opened his mouth to explain, but then Wood’s lips were on his and he died again.</p>
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<a name="section0073"><h2>73. Don't blame me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oliver was furious. Katie’s arm was broken, Fred black-eyed and Harry’s cheek bruised from Malfoy punching him.</p><p>“Quidditch’s a contact sport.” Marcus said smugly, his legs stretched out. Oliver scowled. Everything about the git was smug. </p><p>“Your team could cheat a little less.”</p><p>“Why?” He was so smug, Oliver wanted to punch him. “Just cause we’re fucking now?”</p><p>Oliver flinched at the crudeness of his words. Was that all they were doing? “Because it’s not fair.”</p><p>“Life’s not fair.”</p><p>Oliver sighed. It wasn’t. If it were fair, he could blame Marcus for making Oliver fall in love with him.</p>
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<a name="section0074"><h2>74. Crying over you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Fuck you, Marcus!” Oliver shouted and the whole of the great hall fell into stunned silence. “Fuck you!” He shouted again.</p><p>“Mr Wood!” McGonagall was hurrying towards him. “What on earth has gotten into you?”</p><p>Marcus just sat at the Slytherin table, not moving. </p><p>McGonagall had now reached him and steered him out of the hall and away from everyone’s stares. “What is the matter, Oliver?” She asked kindly.</p><p>Oliver couldn’t stop his tears from falling, frustration coming out in short sharp bursts. “I believed him.” More sobs. “I believed him and now he’s with her.”</p><p>“Oh, my dear boy…"</p>
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<a name="section0075"><h2>75. Clean</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Somebody once told him that it takes seven years for all the cells in your body to be replaced. To have a face that his hands will have never touched. To have lips that will have never been kissed by his. Obviously Marcus does not believe in muggle science. But it’s still nice to think that today’s the day. Seven years. He thinks he should feel different. He thinks he should have woken up and felt a monumental change. Woken up and, just this once, for him not to be the first thing Marcus is thinking about. Maybe he miscounted.</p>
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<a name="section0076"><h2>76. End Game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you doing?” Oliver asked, his eyebrow raised questioningly. Alicia, Katie and Angelina were huddled around an old book, cackling like witches from some Muggle story. It was disquieting. </p><p>“We found a very interesting spell.” Angelina finally managed to say, Alicia and Katie still giggling like crazy. </p><p>“Have you?” Oliver let himself get drawn into the madness.</p><p>“It shows you your endgame. The person you’ll end up with.” Katie explained. “Let’s try it on you!” She waved her wand.</p><p>Everything went dark and then Oliver saw him.</p><p>“You okay?” Angelina sounded worried.</p><p>“Urgh.” Oliver was, in fact, not okay.</p>
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<a name="section0077"><h2>77. ...Ready for it?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oliver wasn’t sure when it’d happened, wasn’t sure whether it’d been a specific moment or just something that had started gradually. Naturally. Maybe it’d been that one time when he was walking to Charms and dropped his quill. And he was there, picking it up. Not insulting him for once. Just handing him his quill. Their hands maybe touching for a moment too long. Or when Pucey wanted to punch Oliver, and he was there, stopping his friend with just a look. Whenever it’d happened, Oliver wasn’t sure whether he was ready for it. Because surely this couldn’t end well.</p>
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<a name="section0078"><h2>78. Slow down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I…” Oliver started just to be shushed by another one of Marcus’ fierce kisses. Their teeth clashed together again, they were yet to find their rhythm. Oliver wasn’t too sure whether they ever would. </p><p>Marcus’ hands were on his shoulders and then they trailed down his back, before moving to Oliver’s chest. They hovered there for a moment, obviously not sure what to do with the lack of a pair of tits. Oliver couldn’t help it. He snorted and then he was laughing. After looking dumbfounded for a moment, Marcus joined in. </p><p>“It’s different.” Marcus said.</p><p>“But good.”</p><p>“Better, really.”</p>
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<a name="section0079"><h2>79. Hard times</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I cannot believe the two of you.” Minerva says, her voice on the line between fury and disappointment. She looks at the two boys, no, young men, in front of her. “You’re meant to be role models. Not behaving like…like animals.” She irritatedly looks over her shoulder when Severus covers his laughter with a cough. Badly. “Fighting like you’re first years again. I thought we were past that?” Minerva is pleased that at least Oliver looks embarrassed, Flint just looks smug. </p><p>“Minerva?”</p><p>“What is it, Severus?” She turns to her colleague, not pleased at being interrupted.</p><p>“They weren’t fighting.”</p>
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<a name="section0080"><h2>80. Tolerate it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’ll be fine.” Oliver, for the hundredth time today, reassures his boyfriend. “It’s just a party. There’ll be lots of people there.”</p><p>“Is that supposed to help?” Marcus straightens his shirt. He feels weird wearing muggle clothes, but he doesn’t want to stand out. Not tonight. Tonight he wants to blend in. </p><p>“I did say you could invite some of your friends.” </p><p>Marcus huffs. “I can’t invite people to somebody else’s birthday party.”</p><p>“George wouldn’t have minded.” Oliver grabs his hand. “It’ll be fine. They’re all happy for us.”</p><p>“No. They don’t like us being together. They just tolerate it.”</p>
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<a name="section0081"><h2>81. Fix you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I can’t see you anymore?” Oliver flattened his hair to hide how his hands were shaking.</p><p>Marcus’ face was completely still. “Are you telling or asking me?”</p><p>“Telling you?” Oliver desperately wanted to be able to tell what Marcus was thinking. Screw that Slytherin composure of his. </p><p>“Another question.” Marcus stated, his voice not betraying his feelings either.</p><p>Oliver sighed. “I’m sick of lying to my friends. Hiding away. Being sneaky. It’s horrible.”</p><p>“You don’t have to.”</p><p>Well, actually he did, Oliver thought. He couldn’t just tell his friends he was dating Flint. “I can’t see you anymore?”</p><p>“You can’t.”</p>
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<a name="section0082"><h2>82. Lover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So is he your…boyfriend?” Oliver could see the wheels turning inside George’s head. They all looked the same. Shocked, confused but, to their credit, trying to get their heads around what Oliver had just told them. </p><p>“Is it still boyfriends if it’s two dudes?” Harry asked, Fred cocked his head at that. Oliver didn’t like the way the twin was looking at him, he could already tell what question was forming in his head.</p><p>“So how does it even-“ Angelina smacked Fred on the back of his head. </p><p>“It’s boyfriends, Harry.” </p><p>“Boyfriend or not. We still play to win.”</p>
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<a name="section0083"><h2>83. My tears ricochet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Did you ever…” Marcus couldn’t quite get himself to finish his question. It didn’t matter anyway. It really didn’t. They were sitting by the lake, the last rays of the summer sun illuminating their faces. Not that they’d know, neither of them able to look at the other’s face. Afraid to see tears, to see pain, to see regret.</p><p>“Did I ever what?”</p><p>Marcus cursed himself for not knowing when to keep his mouth shut. He should just say something else. Anything. But he wanted to know. Maybe he needed to know.<br/>“Love me?”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>He shouldn’t have asked.</p>
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<a name="section0084"><h2>84. I know places</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What about the abandoned classroom by the portrait of Hilda the Harrowed?” Marcus asked, not sure whether he’d managed to keep the disappointment out of his voice. </p><p>“There’s a bunch of Ravenclaws that use that room for studying.” Oliver mumbled, his eyes trained towards the door of the changing rooms, anxious for somebody to burst in and see the two Quidditch captains standing way too close to each other.</p><p>Marcus had never thought it’d prove so difficult to find a place to snog. “The artefact room? The girls’ bathroom on the second floor?” Oliver shook his head. “Forget it then.”</p>
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<a name="section0085"><h2>85. The story never ends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How much longer do you think it’ll take them?” Adrian Pucey asked Angelina Johnson as they were watching Marcus and Wood have yet another shouting match by the Quidditch changing rooms.</p><p>“To stop fighting or to figure out why they’re fighting?” The Gryffindor chaser replied dryly.</p><p>“Both. Well. The latter.” Adrian sighed and shook his head in desperation about the thickness of his friend’s skull. “So much build up sexual tension.” He wasn’t surprised that Johnson did not react at all to what he’d just said. It was, after all, pretty obvious to everyone but the two wizards in question.</p>
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<a name="section0086"><h2>86. Ruin my life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strike>Hello</strike> <strike>Dear</strike> Hi <strike>Marcus</strike> Flint,</p><p> </p><p><strike>Fuck yo </strike>Congrats on winning the game!</p><p> </p><p>As you know, there is a Yule Ball at Hogwarts and former students have been invited. <strike>Do you</strike> I assume you have been as well. <strike>Can we go</strike> I was wondering whether you<strike> want to go</strike> are going? Are you going with <strike>a girl</strike> someone? If not, <strike>let’s go together</strike>I suppose we could sit at the same table. And <strike>dance</strike> have a drink together. I asked McGonagall, we can <strike>get drunk</strike> have a drink.</p><p> </p><p>Anyway, I’ll see you there. <strike>Hopefully</strike>.</p><p> </p><p><strike>Love</strike> <strike>Kind</strike> regards <strike>Yours forever</strike></p><p><strike>Oliver</strike> Wood</p>
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<a name="section0087"><h2>87. At least I look cool</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What in Salazar’s name is that?” Marcus’ eyebrows pretty much disappeared into his hair when he looked at the braided horror that Wood was holding out towards him. </p><p>“A friendship bracelet.” Wood rolled up the sleeve of his Gryffindor hoodie under which the red and golden twin of the monstrosity in his hand slumbered. “I’ve got one too. I made yours green so it’d go with your robes.”</p><p>“I am not wearing a bracelet. We’re almost twelve.” Marcus crossed his arms. “Not little girls.” Wood looked close to tears which made Marcus feel a little bad. “Give it here then.”</p>
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<a name="section0088"><h2>88. Be my mistake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strike>Oliver</strike> Wood,</p><p> </p><p><strike>thank you</strike> I got your letter. Yes, I’ve been invited to the Yule Ball. I’m not going with anyone so I suppose we can sit at the same table <strike>and maybe dance</strike>. You should wear grey it <strike>brings out the colour of your eyes</strike> doesn’t make you look as stupid as you usually do. Obviously McGonagall wouldn’t say no to you <strike>and neither would I if you’d ever bloody ask!!!</strike> so I will bring some firewhiskey with me.</p><p> </p><p>I think it’d be economical to travel to and from Hogwarts together. <strike>We can share a sleeping car</strike>.</p><p> </p><p><strike>Marcus</strike> Flint</p>
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<a name="section0089"><h2>89. Overwhelming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Stupefy!” The death eater honing in on Oliver dropped to the floor.  Oliver hadn’t even seen him. Again he was reminded how out of his depth he was but he couldn’t let his friends fight without him. Not when this was probably their last chance to win the war. He turned around to thank whoever had saved him.</p><p>“Flint?” Oliver raised his wand again and Flint mimicked him. The former Slytherin captain was dressed all in black. </p><p>“Don’t you dare ask me what side I am on.” Flint snarled and walked up to Oliver to embrace him. “Don’t you dare.”</p>
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<a name="section0090"><h2>90. Words ain't enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s that?” Adrian sat down next to Marcus in the great hall. Not many students were left, most had left the leavers’ meal to hang out by the lake.</p><p>“I think it is some sort of code.” Marcus scrunched up his face. He’d never been good with numbers. “Wood gave it to me.”</p><p>“Did he not explain it?”</p><p>“No, he just pushed it into my hand and then walked off with his Gryffindor mates giggling like mad.” </p><p>Adrian took the small scrap of paper out of Marcus’ hand. “It’s a phone number.” He laughed. “Wood wants you to call him.”</p>
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<a name="section0091"><h2>91. Midnight Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You better go.” Oliver looked at the clock. It was almost seven. </p><p>Marcus huffed, his body still pressed close to Oliver’s. “It doesn’t start until eleven. I’ve got plenty of time.”</p><p>“But you need to get ready. Surely your family will be worried if you’re late.”</p><p>“I won’t be late.”</p><p>Oliver leaned down to kiss the top of Marcus’ head. He took a deep breath, trying to memorise every nuance of Marcus’ distinct smell. Musk, leather and something sweet, Oliver thought it might be caramel or toffees. “Okay. But only another hour. You can’t be late to your own wedding.”</p>
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<a name="section0092"><h2>92. Only happy when it rains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Can’t believe they’re making us play in this weather.” Alicia moped and Katie was quick to agree. </p><p>Oliver looked up at the canopy of the great hall. You couldn’t see much, it was grey in grey in grey. But you could hear it. The thunder, the heavy drops of the rain falling and the crisp crack of lightning. </p><p>“We’ll be drenched.” Angelina stated, less mopey than Alicia though.</p><p>“It’s not that bad.” Oliver couldn’t help but look over to the Slytherin table. Flint found his eyes instantly. Rain meant cold bodies. Cold bodies meant hot showers. Flint winked at him.</p>
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<a name="section0093"><h2>93. Such great heights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What?” Flint snarled. Oliver just smirked. They were hovering just a few feet apart, the Quidditch pitch empty. Their friends had decided that a sunny Saturday was better spent in Hogsmeade or down by the lake, rather than playing Quidditch.</p><p>“Why are you looking at me like that?” Flint asked, less bite and more confusion in his voice now.</p><p>Oliver cocked his head. “I don’t know.”, he said truthfully, “Don’t think I’ve ever looked at  you properly.” </p><p>“Stop it. It’s weird.”</p><p>“Sorry.” But he continued looking.</p><p>“Wood.”</p><p>Oliver grinned. “We should do this more often.” </p><p>“Playing or staring rudely?”</p><p>“Both.”</p>
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<a name="section0094"><h2>94. Glimpse of forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It all started with both of them getting signed by the Chudley Cannons. Granted, it was the worst team in the league but also the only team to put players straight out of school on the main squad. They both tried out and were soon clad in orange. As the two newest players they ended up having lunch together, then dinner and at some point breakfast. Then there was a second toothbrush in his bathroom, socks he’d never seen before in his laundry basket and when they showed up together at George’s wedding none of his friends seemed terribly surprised.</p>
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<a name="section0095"><h2>95. Brave enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oliver stared at the picture on the phone in his hand. Left or right? He still looked the same. Tall, dark and broody. And sodding hot. </p><p>“Are you swiping again?” Angelina asked and sat down across from him. She was still in her kit. Oliver had already showered and was waiting for her so they could go down to the pub together. </p><p>“Mhm.” Left or right?</p><p>“Not sure about that one?” Angelina tried to look at the screen but Oliver turned it away from her.</p><p>“Too worried about what might happen if we match.” </p><p>“Who is it?”</p><p>“Nevermind.” Oliver swiped.</p>
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<a name="section0096"><h2>96. Turning pages</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Most days Oliver Wood was perfectly fine. He would go visit George and they’d try out some of the new products. He’d swing by one of Angelina’s training sessions, never playing, just watching. He’d visit Lee at the prophet, finding out all the gossip before it’d hit the press. But some days Oliver Wood was not perfectly fine. Those days started with him turning around in his small kitchen, a snide remark on his lips but nobody to say it to. They started with a Slytherin scarf discovered in the back of his wardrobe. But most days he was fine.</p>
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<a name="section0097"><h2>97. Always forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You can do it, Wood.” </p><p>Marcus loved this game. Wood looked beyond uncomfortable. He was yet to take his eyes off the bottle that only moments ago had been spinning inside the small circle the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams had formed in the changing rooms. Pucey had started it, his spin landing on Johnson. A modest peck later, Johnson kissed Spinnet who kissed Warrington who kissed Weasley who kissed Montague who kissed Malfoy. Malfoy who kissed Potter. A bit too enthusiastically, really.</p><p>“I know you wa-“ Wood pounced on him, his lips feeling inexplicably soft. Yes, Marcus loved this game.</p>
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<a name="section0098"><h2>98. Wasted on each other</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is never going to work.” Oliver said and reached past Flint to turn off the shower. Flint nodded in agreement, his lips swollen and pink.<br/>~<br/>“We don’t have anything in common.” Marcus mumbled against Woods’ ear, their bodies too close together but nobody noticed, everyone was cheering for Potter who’d just been promoted to head auror. <br/>~<br/>“Our friends hate each other.” Oliver said, knocking his knee against Flint’s, who was gaping at the screen in front of them, a childlike expression of wonder on his face ever since they’d entered the cinema. <br/>~<br/>“It was worth a try.” </p><p>“It was.”</p>
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<a name="section0099"><h2>99. Call me when it's over</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you thinking about?” Oliver asked, his gaze fixed on Flint who was sitting next to him, his hands beating a silent melody on the quaffle in his hands. </p><p>“Things are happening, aren’t they.” Flint looked up, their eyes locked. “People are starting to pick sides again. Whispering. Trying to get out of the country before shit hits the fan. I will too.” Oliver opened his mouth but Flint shook his head. “Don’t. I’m going away so I don’t have to choose. Not that there’s a choice for someone like me.” Flint stood. “I’ll see you after, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p>
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<a name="section0100"><h2>100. Star Shopping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They sit closer to each other than they ever have, staring at the Quidditch pitch in front of them. Their shoulders touching lightly. Their knees brushing against each other, almost accidentally. </p><p>“Will you miss it?” Oliver says, his voice only slightly unsure.</p><p>“No.” Marcus replies harshly. “I’m sick of this place.”</p><p>Oliver pulls away a little, disappointed. “Right.”</p><p>“Don’t be stupid.” Marcus mumbles. “Soppy git.”</p><p>“You like me.”</p><p>Marcus stares into his eyes for a long time. It is most unsettling. And then he kisses him. Hard. It leaves Oliver breathless. “Get over yourself.”</p><p>Oliver grins. “You really like me.”</p>
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<a name="section0101"><h2>101. All again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s convenient. That’s all there is to it. </p><p>You both end up playing for the National Team. You train together. You need someone to share all the post game euphoria with. You could go out and find a willing witch but he’s just there. He’s there, under the shower with that stupid expression on his face. That stupid smirk. That stupid stupid mouth. Then you’re kissing him again, the feel of those stupid lips just as sweet as a win. And when he asks you to come home with him, you do. </p><p>It’s convenient. That’s all there is to it.</p>
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